Robert (gurdonark) wrote,
Robert
gurdonark

Bughouse


Today my nephew and I got together at our home to play chess. He beat me by a score of 2 wins, 2 draws, no losses. Later, we got on-line at the Free Internet Chess Server, where we functioned as a bughouse chess team for the second day in a row. Bughouse is a chess variant, involving four hands. One team member plays black, one plays white. The buggy part is that each team member who captures a piece or pawn passes it to his or her partner, who may, in lieu of moving, place the piece on the board. It's a game in which life can be nasty, brutish and short. My nephew and I have won only a single game thus far of dozens played. We will be better bug players than we are now. I had played bug a good few handfuls of time in "real life", and know that I eventually get the hang of it. But eventuality sometimes involves getting mopped up for a few dozens games first.

We both entered an on-line blitz chess tournament, where I came in second and he did quite well. We are better at the conventional game of three minute chess. Meanwhile, during his visit, we took my dogs Bea and Teddy and his dog Arnold for a walk at the park. We did not go around the entire little pond, because we did not want to
disturb the great blue heron at pondside. My wife and my sister-in-law sat on our back patio and enjoyed the flowers and the outdoor air.

His father, my brother, sent me a new MIDI jazz song he created. I converted it into an ambient piece, titled it "Preservation", and posted it at my music page.

Then I took the piece and used it to serve as the soundtrack for a spoken word track by a poet. I want to add more plug-ins to my array, so that I can morph things into ambience more easily. I was sorely tempted by a thirty-dollar filter that makes anything sound like a dijeridoo, but I have not yet succumbed, and I am agnostic as to my future potential for conversion to its cause. I already have a PVC pipe didge, after all, and a Radio Shack microphone.

My wife finished yet another day on the last weekend of her classes on softwares she can use in her writing,
after which we went to Goodhue's in McKinney, a charming restaurant that always plunges one into semi-darkness suitable for undertaking and whispered secrets. I had a competent salmon, my wife had a caper-filled stuffed chicken, and then we walked the town square. Most of the stores had closed at five, so we were not able to visit the little "world imported things" shop owned by the Turkish-American fellows with whom my wife has become a friendly acquaintance. We passed a hipster in his late 30s sitting on a wrought-iron chair, and we bid him a good evening, as it is good luck to be pleasant to hipsters and children.

Our daylilies are in bloom. Perhaps I will slip into the guitar show tomorrow, although I have never had an inkling of a notion that I have the patience to learn guitar. I just like flangers.

Gurdonark--I Secretly Know I'm Dying (featuring Melissa K and LeftOver Brass)
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